


I Don't Need to Study Chemistry I Know it with You

by jetblacklilac



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1960s vibe, F/M, athlete jon, nerdy sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14570280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetblacklilac/pseuds/jetblacklilac
Summary: Sansa Stark is an accomplished student in the realm of academe. Jon Snow is a praised athlete. The only things that tie them together are milkshakes, the city library, and false pretenses that hides what surfaces each time they smile at each other.





	1. I'm Not a Prize But You Won Me Over

**Author's Note:**

> please comment on what you think. i have a soft spot for this fic

 

 

The entire morning, Sansa suspected there was an important event unknown to her. Students were more loquacious than usual, chattering with evident excitement. And though, she won’t admit it, she didn’t spot Jon when she went upstairs for her first period. He wasn’t leaning on his locker, arms crossed, laughing at some antic Theon or Robb were narrating.

 

When it was lunch time, students crowing the cafeteria and they sat down on their table, Sansa posed the question that has been in her mind all morning. “Mya, is there something happening that I’m not aware of?” She asked as she dragged her fork through her salad.

 

Mya exhaled a breath and rolled her eyes. “A football game is coming up this Saturday. That’s why all classes will be called off early and I have to help dear Mya with the banner.”

 

“I’d love to help.” Sansa volunteered; her focus on the half-finished salad. Yet her thoughts centred at a possibility of being near the football field as they readied the banner. “And maybe we could watch the game.” She nonchalantly hums as she takes a sip from her carton of milk.

 

Her best friend arched a brow, a smirk tilting one side of her mouth and she raises her fork to waggle it at Sansa’s face. “Bambi, honey, you ain’t foolin’ me. I know you want to see your boy play.” She lilted and poked one of Sansa’s blushing cheeks only making the girls giggle.

 

“I said no such thing. I’d want to see Jeyne’s poster.” Sansa justified her reason, though without much conviction as she would’ve done if she was in an opposition team for a debate match.

 

“Good because Jeyne and I were planning on smuggling you out of your house anyways.” Mya shamelessly admitted and snickered at Sansa’s surprised expression.

 

“That’s what friends are for I supposed.” Sansa deadpanned. Her attention slid past Mya’s shoulder. She watches the athletes and cheerleaders joke around.

 

But, she noted with a twinge of sadness, Jon isn’t at the table, with sun wrinkles beside his eyes and his nose is scrunched up as he laughed.

 

Someone cleared their throat and it turned out to be the other person on the table, and how Sansa’s longing gaze isn’t missed by her companion. Sansa shifted on the steel chair and avoided the taunting expression her best friend wore. She chewed on her salad. All the while Mya constantly glances at her with a ghosting smirk as though she can see the thoughts of how Sansa is pushing away the feeling of missing the jock.

 

“Relax, bamb, he’s probably out at the field practicing.” Mya assured her and reached out to pat her hand.

Sansa finally returned the eye contact with a politely vacant expression. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” She muttered; irritated with the fact that she’s being careless in burying whatever it is she has for Jon.

 

Perhaps it’s merely concern because no one should be skipping meals for practices. Don’t jocks need to consume more protein than a normal person because of their workout routine? What if he sprained his ankle during those runs they do?

 

“Maybe but I know who you’re thinking about.” Mya insinuated with swift wink as she drank her carton of milk like their conversation didn’t happen.

 

She found herself getting more avid in her afternoon classes ending. Her mind comprised of thoughts in hanging out with her friends as they paint a banner for the big game everyone is talking about. But also, a bubble of giddiness sticks in her chest at the thought of seeing Jon because she hasn’t seen him all day.

Not that she misses him but only for the sake of quelling her worries for his well-being. All day, she has heard students, as they pass her by, on the ruthlessness of their opponents and how their school must be better even at their best. This means the football team have a monumental pressure on their shoulders as they would be against the supposed best. Unfortunately, being the quarterback, it’s much implied he has the most responsibility in achieving such a feat for their school and for their morale and whatnot.

 

When they exited their last class, Jeyne waits for them at the door with arms full of cans and paintbrushes. The girls wordlessly followed the youngest out of the three of them in the gymnasium. No one was in there lest for them. There, near the tall basketball hoop, was a laid out and very much wide white banner.

 

The sophomore lines up her art paraphernalia and beams at the juniors. “I’m glad to have you both here! All we have to do is spell out our school’s name. I’ll paint the logo, not to worry there ladies!” Her voice bounced on the cream walls of the gym and it had much enthusiasm as the origin of it. “I’ve traced the name so all we have to do is retrace with paint!”

 

In no time, the girls divided the task amongst themselves as they positioned the paint cans within their proximity and sat at different places but still surrounded the banner. Sansa sat at the left, Mya, at the other end while Jeyne sat at the smack middle; all of them focused on their task and silence floated in the air.

 

“Jeyne, she says she’ll watch the game.” Mya declares, her body is bent towards the banner, her hand ever so steady as she draws the letters.

 

Jeyne got a glimpse of Sansa, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip in concentration, her hand curving as she traced the letters, and her attention devoted to her task; their best friend is currently oblivious to their conversation. “That’s a relief but I wanted to try out dad’s new ladder.” She pouted.

 

Her other friend crawled on her knees until they sat side by side. She pointed her brush to the topic of their conversation but cautious enough so the paint won’t drip on the banner. “Oh, she’s watching the game because of Jon. She hasn’t been in her zone lately. She’s always looking around for that boy or smiling into nothingness probably because of what he does for her.”

 

The other artist contemplates on the information given to her. Sansa isn’t known for acting wayward on her routine. Everything about their friend is predictable, safe, and reliable. Even they know her schedule at any time of the day like the back of their hands. But now, she’s twirling her steps in a dance they haven’t seen her do.

 

“Hey bambi, can you rinse our brushes?” Jeyne requested and gathered their brushes. She handed them to Sansa who didn’t complain and promised to return as soon as she was finished.

 

Mya gazed at her younger sister with evident concern. “Jon is unwinding her. We’ll be there when he leaves her a mess of tears and broken pieces of her heart.” She whispered, her voice cracking in fear and her hands felt colder at the mere possibility.

 

Meanwhile, Sansa entered the bathroom right next to the gymnasium. She places the paint soaked brushes under the faucet and allows the cold water to wash away the dirt. Sansa uses another sink to wash her hands as well, with soap, as she hums a tune she heard on a radio coming to school. When the brushes meet her level of cleanliness, she removes them from the sink and dries them off with toilet paper.

 

When she exits the bathroom, the door beside hers also groaned to a close. She twisted her head to see Jon, wearing a shirt that had their school’s logo on it. It hadn’t occurred to them they became rooted to their spots, both feasting on each other as though it has been so long since they last saw each other.

 

“My, the little bookworm can paint now?” Jon says with a playful tone. The kind he always uses for her; along with the fond smile and soft expression on his face.

 

Colour graces high on her cheeks and she gazes down at his sneakers then to her gleaming Mary Janes. “I’m helping Jeyne for the school banner. You know, for your football game.” She reminds him. Her eyes attend on his physique and notes how heavy his breaths are, his hair messier than usual, and his toned arms are glistening in sweat. _He must be exhausted,_ she thought in worry.

 

“Ah, that’s why.” He said in mild discomfort, his hand that isn’t holding a towel went to scratch the nape of his neck. The casualness of his stance betrays how his voice pitched in a higher tone out of nervousness and his stance is rigid the moment she mentioned the game.

 

Sansa took a step closer to him, their arms nearly touching. She wants to touch his shoulder and seep comfort in his frenzy nerves but she hesitates. “You’ve been practicing all day. I’m confident you’ll win.” She encourages him and flashes a brief smile. “And I’ll be there to witness your victory.”

 

His head snaps up and a delighted beam stretches on his face. His tightly knitted shoulders relax and she’s beheld by how his artic eyes are sparkling. “You are?”

 

She nods; the shy grins on their faces couldn’t do justice to the joy buzzing in her veins and filling their heart with something so much more.

 

“Good because then, I’ll have my lucky charm.” Jon said softly. His voice washed over her cheek and warmed both of their faces with red. His attention is meticulously studying the wonder on Sansa’s reaction.

 

 _I’m your lucky charm?_  She gushed in her mind. With only a little tilt to of her chin, their noses were only a breath away; his grey misty eyes gazes daringly into her sky eyes. “Does that mean you’re not a formidable player and you need some extra help on the field?” She alleged, her eyebrow arched, and her cheeks retained the coy blush dusting on her cheeks.

 

A chuckle escaped his lips and he momentarily glanced down. When he did, the thick long lashes brushed against his cheeks and Sansa is enthralled by the motion. “If you’ll attend and we win, then yes.” He bargained and reached his hand out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The same finger caresses her cheek, enticed by its softness.

 

Once again, their eyes of skies and mist clashed. And like their natural state, they are never to collide with each other.

 

“Uh, hey guys.”

 

It was a wink of an eye when they took steps away from their near proximity. Sansa twisted, in subtle horror and embarrassment, to witness Jeyne with her inquisitive expression. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, her lips tightened, and her stance rigid. “Je-Jeyne, this is Jon Stark. Jon, this is Jeyne Poole.” She introduced out of the tense atmosphere surrounding them.

 

The mentioned people merely dipped their heads in acknowledgement. Why there was even tension is unbeknownst to Sansa.

 

Jeyne cleared her throat. “I was wondering where you’ve run off too, bambi. I guess you got occupied.” She mocked with a jerk of her head to Jon’s direction.

 

“Bambi?” Jon repeated and looked down at Sansa teasingly.

 

“It’s her favourite movie.” Jeyne interrupted Sansa’s response with a blatant steel voice. Even though she’s relatively shorter compared to the two juniors, her stature resonates with ire burning in her caramel eyes and the frown on her mouth. “I’m surprised you don’t know considering the nights you two have been discreetly _communicating_.”

 

“Jeyne!” Sansa scolds in disbelief. Her shout bounced around the empty hallway save for the three of them. She scans her best friend’s irritated composure.

 

“You guys need to sneak out more if it means you’ll learn more about each other.” The younger girl scoffed. She then walked in between them to enter the girls’ bathroom.

 

They both winced at the orotund slam of the door. Now they were left alone once more, tensed silence felt heavier. Sansa glanced at Jon, still standing beside her awkwardly. “Jon, I am incredibly sorry for what she said. She isn’t this curt with people she doesn’t know. I-I’m so sorry.” She rushed out with her tremulous voice.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. She’s just probably protective or something.” Jon assures as he lays a hand on her shoulder. His thumb swiped on the clothed skin as he backs away a little so their eyes meet in a level. “See you at the game okay? Our school is counting on us.” He murmured before one last loose pattRodrik on her shoulder and he left; heading towards the fields where his practice is most likely to resume.

 

Sansa’s hand crept to the spot Jon’s hand was and the corner of her mouth quirked. She then entered the bathroom to see Jeyne humming as she filled up the water bottles. “What you did was very rude, Jeyne! I know you’re looking out for me but your method is inappropriate.” She reprimanded with a slight glower and her mouth pinched to a frown.

 

Jeyne turns the knob of the faucet and the water stops flower. She turns to her with her hands in the air. “I’m not really sorry.” She insisted and leaned on the sink, arms crossed. It was conventional for either of the siblings to act motherly for Sansa. And this is the first incident that an unknown element is thrown at their mix.

 

“I understand that you’re my best friend and you’re worried but I can handle myself.” Sansa emphasized because if they felt she’s even an ounce unsure, they’d probably isolate her from Jon.

 

“How can you handle yourself? He already has you swept off your feet.” Jeyne threw back. She waited no response and gathered the bottles in her arms. She made a move to exit the bathroom but Sansa stood in her path; eyes enlarged and her face resembled some sort of puppy.

 

“I promise the next time he even looks at my direction, I’ll tell you both everything.” She vows with a firm nod.

 

The hostile persona slid off and was substituted for the warmer and more familiar side of her best friend. Jeyne hugs her with one arm and lets it dangle on Sansa’s shoulders. “Now, let’s finish that banner, huh?” She proposes with a laugh.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

“I’m going to an after school tutorial. It offers additional points to my final grade in AP geometry Mother.” Sansa practiced undRodrikeath her breath as her hands constantly tug and tuck her sangria blouse into her skirt. If she doesn’t do this, her hands would shake as much as the thoughts in her head are racing like horses Father loves to bet on.

 

When she arrived at the base of the stairs, she searches the vast living room and finds Mother seated perfectly still on the couch. Her shoes tap against the marble and she stops at the arm of the sofa. “Mother.” She calls, hesitance ringing in that lone word. She straightens her impossibly rigid spine and fixes a smile on her mouth.

 

Catelyn turned to see her daughter casually dressed up. Her hand that held the telephone gripped it tighter and whispering a few words into the speaker, she lowered it. “Child, will you watch the football game?” She pries as she scrutinizes the outfit Sansa has chosen.

 

Sansa gawks at Mother in shock. _How did she know? Does she know about Jon?_ Her worries increased in waves as she sees Mother, sipping wine, and waiting for her answer. Her mouth opens to reply in the way she has rehearsed for over an hour but Mother merely raises her hand and signal it’s still her time to talk.

 

“Whatever schedule you have with your lessons, it shall be postponed. Everyone is buzzing about the game and I can’t be there myself, the noise alone would disturb my senses. It’ll be a social buzz for weeks and I’ll need details behind it. Arya and Rickon will be there to support your brother. So best if you join them.” Catelyn ordered in her flinty voice. She rose from her seat and extracts a pin from her bubble gum cardigan to slide it on the side of Sansa’s head.

 

She pats the area and inspects the outfit. “I supposed it’ll do. Be back as soon as the game is done. Lord knows how undignified people are when their team wins.” She huffs and takes her position on the sofa again.

 

Unsure of what had happened; Sansa walks out on the front porch where Rodrik awaits for her by the service car. Sansa assessed Mother’s instructions and felt thankful for how she’s absolute bait when it comes to being in tuned to whatever her social network might be inclined to. Her siblings are waiting in the car, babbling about the chances of their team winning and both of them were too confident in the victory. The campus rose in their vision and Rodrik parked the car at the main entrance.

 

“Hey, Rodrik, don't fuss! I'm sure we won't get a scratch watching the bloody game!” Arya, she recognized, promises as she and their younger brother jumps on the balls of his feet.

 

Rodrik nodded and takes out a cigarette out of his coat. “Make sure you all come back in one piece, alright?” He mumbles and grabs the book from the front seat.

 

The younger Starks got each of her wrist and they ran, giggling, on the broad hallways of the school. She hasn’t seen it this empty on school days and it held a peculiar beauty. Their frantic steps echoed on the sleek floor until they arrived at the other end; this part of the campus didn’t have antique furniture decorated or shiny floors but cement and dirt and grass as far as the eye can see.

 

Today because of the game, students and parents milled about in the lush football field. There’s a palpable sense of exhilaration as the prospect of what is to happen in a short while. She followed them, holding Rickon’s hand as they weave through the crowd. Her eyes darts around the people and recognized most of them are students casually dressed and chattering amongst themselves.

 

“Here.” Rickon pointed out as he directed the girls to an empty bench. It was a few feet away from the ground wherein the players would be sitting and lined up for the game.

 

 

“There it is! Our wondrous creation!” Sansa exclaimed over the cacophonous crowd. She pointed to where the school banner was stretched out on the lower part of the bleachers. The name was neatly painted with the school logo large for anyone in the radius can see.

 

Arya and Rickon grinned proudly at that.

 

“You have a talent with letters, sweet sister.” The freshman taunted with an airy giggle to which she mimicked in delight.

 

They all noticed the audience settling on their seats and their voices quieten down a notch in volume. There was an orotund of announcement in the teams by the commentator far above their bleachers in the control room. When it was the opponent’s name mentioned, their section of fans roared with gusto as their players lined up dressed in uniforms coated in their school’s colour.

 

Sansa covered her ears when their school was mentioned because everyone around them screamed cheers in seeing the boys enter the field in red and gold. Whether it was intentional or not, she distinguished Jon out of all the players in his team. She smiled a natural occurrence it seems whenever it comes to him.

 

He held his helmet in one hand. He displayed none of his anxieties because he poses with his chest out, a serious expression on his face with a firmness on his mouth, and his composure was relaxed yet alert.

 

“Did you do your homework on this?” Arya inquired as the referee whistled and motioned for the teams to be in their positions.

 

“Yes, I found Father’s old manual on football. Quite the aggressive sport, I have to say.” Sansa informed and they all leaned forward, intrigued by the game that’s about to happen.

 

With the first half of the game, there was a constant tug of earning points. The football flew on both sides as the boys wrestled for it. Each time their school made efforts in snatching the football back, their audience would go wild and cheer. The girls have gotten influenced by the infectious exhilaration everyone around them has. They cheered along with the people, laughing at how absurd yet right it felt.

 

If one of her siblings asked Sansa what the score would be, she couldn’t answer because all throughout the first half of the game, her eyes are keenly trained on the quarterback. The moment she saw the number on Jon’s back, she hasn’t taken her eyes off of him. The way he’s swift in changing his paces in attempting to acquire the ball, his admiring agility and strength is all showcased in the ability he has on the real field.

 

What she couldn’t push away is the constant worry for him. She has read numerous gruesome accidents happening on the field because of a slip of one’s ankle or a rough shove on a shoulder that leads one to having a torn limb. In the end of the first half, there’s no clear winner yet but in her heart, she knows they’ll prevail.

 

“I think I saw someone selling water. I’ll be right back.” Sansa excused herself.

 

“Buy for us too!” Rickon asked then him and his older sister resumed their evaluation of the game.

 

She descended on the bleachers and craned her neck in spotting the vendor she saw not so long ago. Some people have gone to the bathrooms while the others either stayed on their seats or went to talk with the players.

 

Eventually, she found the vendor and purchased three water bottles and packs of popcorn for her friends. She paused at the foot of the bleacher and peered over at the boys where chugging down cold drinks and chattering. Without a second more, she discovered Jon, and as though he felt her stare, his gaze ganders to hers. Even when he’s clearly talking to Jon, he smiled at her.

 

Sansa didn’t take in account the people passing by between them because his upturned reaction towards her sent her cheeks flaming. There, not too far from her, stands the very reason why she’s at an event she’d never thought of attending. And she just knows she’d endure dragging games if it meant getting glimpses of him. She reciprocated the covert wave he did but she noticed Theon turning around so she did her best to quickly climb up the steps in avoiding getting caught.

 

“Aw, you got us popcorn. Thanks, Sans!” Arya gushed and lovingly pinched Sansa’s cheek. She opened the package and grinned as the cheese flavour invaded her mouth.

 

Not too long after, the Winterfell cheerleading team executed their half-time show with pop songs she’s sure she heard in the radio in the past few months.

 

The game resumed after the suspense hanging in the air. The football is tossed about, players brutally tackled each other, people screaming at the intensity of the game. She gasped aloud the moment Robb snatched the flying football and maddeningly raced and dropped it at the opponents’ end point meanwhile, Jon skillfully barricaded the foes. She, like the crowd, got to their feet and cheered for the victory she already knew he’d achieve.

 

Her hands went red and stung at the countless times she applauded them, the sound lost in the roars of triumph the crowd did as the players lifted Robb up on their shoulders, chanting his name repeatedly. Her cheeks hurt from the grin she wore the entire time they rooted for this victory none other than the jock who’s been amiable to her. Her favorite player wasn't the person whom the people so openly admired. Jon stood at the edge of Robb's adoring crowd and looked at the applauding audience all around him. And she  _swore_ even at the abyss of a distance between them, Jon smiled up at her.  _I must be going mad,_ she thought and dimly, there wasn't any shame or a rejection to this enthralling notion. 

 

After descending down the bleachers, she reunited with her driver who escorted her back to the mansion. Sitting at the edge of the seat, she observed the energetic conversations of Arya and Rickon; both enthusiastic and consistently triumphant in the manner of their tones.

 

“Ah, hello, children. How was the game?” Father greeted her as he and his wife across of each other in different sofas. A bottle of wine and heavy stacks of paperwork are neatly spread on the transparent coffee table.

 

Sansa sat down between them legs clamped together, hands on her lap. Arya and Rickon eagerly retold the story, some parts are exaggerated because of how they practically worship Jon and Robb. They both jumped and clapped their hands, eyes twinkling and their parents caught their infectious beams as well. She managed to snag a portion of reporting Jon’s moments and she conscientiously keeps pride out of her voice whenever she mentions Jon or how skilled he is on the game. The smile was unstoppable when she got to the part of how he won the game with the final race.

 

Her night continued on like any other Saturday night; reading a book by the large bay window in her room with a cup of tea and her feet stretched out in front of her. She ate dinner with her parents with the same silence except for the scrape of utensils and Mother nit picking on their posture and the manner in which she lifts her spoon.

 

It was about eleven in the evening; Father locked himself in his study while Mother is most probably reading in the master bedroom. Arya and Rickon are in their respective rooms or are in one of them, still discussing the game. Sansa went down to the kitchen because her throat is parched and she created a distraction from her studying before she sleeps.

 

A blaring set of rings cut through the usual quietness of the threshold.

 

She frowned at the sound; no one in their right mind would call at this time of night. She closed the door of the fridge when one of the staff approached her. “Who is it?” she asked and followed the woman to where the telephone is stationed; on a table top beside the living room sofa.

 

“A Jon Snow, ma’am.” She replies before leaving her to process this information.

 

Sansa blinked for a few seconds in surprise; not quite comprehending if the maid had gotten it wrong or she misheard what the answer was. She sat down, her hand pressing down on her cotton shirt as though Jon can see through the phone call. She picks the hazel wood coloured telephone and placed it next to her ear. “Hello?” She whispers and she slightly recoils at how noisy the other end is.

 

 _Sansa?_ It was definitely Jon because wings’ of butterflies brushed along her insides and a simper curled her lips.

 

“Why are you calling me so late?” She scolded him. But her face, if anyone was to see her in the darkness of the living room, was utterly blooming with heat at what she’s doing. An improper thing Mother would screech at her.

 

 _I’m so sorry I’m calling you past your bed time! Did you have a good short dream though?_ He teased with a laugh. It was certainly odd for her to engage in a conversation with a boy over the phone, almost eleven at night, but she held the telephone tighter on her hands.

 

She heard music booming and muffled voices of people she didn’t recognized. “Are you at a party? Why are you calling me?” She pressed on, confused and anxious for her parents could find her in a compromising position in any second.

 

 _Joffrey is throwing a victory party. Anyways, I’m calling you because I’m thanking my lucky charm!_ He exclaimed and there was a shuffle of feet which could mean he’s nervously shifting his weight.

 

“Thank you but are you drunk right now? You sound a little too chirpy.” Sansa frets. Does he have a designated driver? Will he be alright the next day? She twists the wire around her fingers as she taps her foot in the tune of her worries.

 

A chuckle replied her. _I don’t drink at parties. And I’m just so happy you were there at the game._

 

“Because you won the game?”

 

_Because you were there._

 

If her cheeks could physically be in flames, it would at his blatant statement. This boy was almost shameless in his words. Unabashed is what Jon is. She shook her head, knowing he won’t see her reaction. _Why are you so happy I was there?_ Sansa thought but thought otherwise to say it.

 

“I thought you’d need some extra help.” Sansa teased.

 

_And I kind of need extra help, only if you’re up to it._

 

“I’ll have to decide after hearing your proposal.” She negotiated. She crossed her legs as she waited for Jon’s offer. Though there was no hurry on her side, her parents would still be trapped in their own bubble to care about this phone call.

 

_There’s this huge Chemistry test and I need your help. Maybe we can meet at the library tomorrow? After the mass you attend, let’s say two?_

 

Sansa sat straighter at what she heard. She hadn’t even told him what time she goes to mass or that she goes at all. Her gaze falls to her free hand, twirling on the hem of her shirt. “That party must really be a bore if you’re thinking about this test.” She muttered, bashful and quiet.

 

He chuckled. _Yeah well I’m only here because Robb, your darling brother, dragged me here._

 

Sansa opened her mouth to demand her brother’s safety but the words flew out of her mind when she heard Ygritte’s voice over the phone. She couldn’t catch what fierce redhead said but it was enough for Jon to sigh.

 

_I have to go, bookworm. But hey, I hope you’ll help me tomorrow!_

 

She slumped against the pillows on her back when the line went dead in a monotonous beep. The clock displayed a time she hasn’t surpassed before. She tightened her hold on the sides of her shirt as she ascended on the stairs, hurriedly making her way to her room. Her hand hovers over the golden knob but freezes when she heard the door of the study groan to open.

 

“Child, who was that?” Father demanded. He held a fountain pen on one hand and his other hand went on his hip. His white crisp shirt was tucked out of the pants he wore and the dark circles below his eyes seemed darker with little to no light.

 

Sansa gulped. “No one, Father. I directed them to the person they wanted to talk to.” She answered; her heart hammering in her chest and she felt a quiver in her knees.

 

Ned nods. “Go to bed, we have service tomorrow.” He ordered then went inside the study with the slam of the door.

 

She hastily opened the door and flopped down on her canopy bed, her body bounced at the speed and the clouds of pillows fell on her sides. The vacant ceiling is all she stares at, her mind swimming in the events that had occurred.

 

She isn’t even sure if the thoughts have clung in her mind yet it was _real_ for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i write backwards?? gosh, i don't know but please tell me what you think and uh,, kudos maybe ?


	2. Your Smile is Worth a Thousand Milkshakes

The entirety of the mass, Sansa couldn’t erase the smile on her mouth. This time, she didn’t feel irate in hearing Joffrey complain about how long and dull masses are. She sat through all the usual sequence of events when it’s a Sunday. After the mass, they all drive to the Baratheon-Lannister estate and have lunch there. They all are civil with one another, small talks are the only ones made, wines flowed, and the children played around the vast front yard.

 

She sat at the front porch with the adults but sat at the very edge, ignoring their talks of business and drank the apple juices the maids offered her. All her mind is set to think is in a few hours; she’d be with Jon in the city library. When Father stood up and shook hands with Robert Baratheon, she nearly cried out in delight. She retained the polite façade all throughout the trip. Ern dropped her off the library and this is the only time she showed them how excited she is for she grinned brightly at them, her parents had puzzlement on their faces in witnessing this.

 

“Good afternoon.” Sansa greeted the elderly woman behind the counter.

 

“Good afternoon to you too.” A familiar voice greeted behind her.

 

She restrained from grinning in excess when she saw Jon with his hands in his pockets and a smile brightening his face. Together, they closed the distance but not in the way that would be deemed intimate. “I haven’t known a jock to be eager in learning chemistry.” She wonders, her chin inclined to an angle so she can observe the shine in his artic eyes.

 

“You need to hang out with me more.” Jon retorts and they both laughed. A carefree sound in a quiet environment resonated around in a louder sense with the silence they’re surrounded in. He briefly bites his lip before angling his head to the countless of shelves a few feet from them. “Come on and make me regret my decision.” He mourns and carries the books that her leather strap has been holding.

 

“You won’t because I made sure it’s extremely comprehensive a toddler could learn from it.” Sansa assured as they entered the centre of the library, it had steps and rectangular oaken tables with green lamps lined up until the very end of the edifice

.

Jon scoffed. “Are you saying I have the comprehension level of a toddler’s?” He agonized as she directed him to an empty table. He laid out a book and a mauve covered notebook.

 

Sansa giggles but clamps her mouth when she spotted one of the librarians; she squinting her grey eyes at them as she pushes on a cart filled with books. “You could prove me wrong by studying with me.” She encouraged as she patted the chair next to hers.

 

She swore her breath got stuck somewhere in her throat at being so close with him. It always gravitates to this situation, a move on either of them and everything could change. For worse Sansa is so sure because he embodies something she shouldn’t want. But oh, her blood sings when he’s near and her hands ache to touch him.

“I’ll prove you wrong, missy.” Jon sassed with a shrug of his shoulder. He dragged one book to him and opened it; flashing a smile at her direction.

 

Hours have passed in the time Sansa narrated and cautiously elaborated on the complex concepts on their books. She made flash cards, questions on the front and the answer written in cherry red ink. Pride widens her mouth when he gets an answer correct. He’d also have this proud glint in his eyes in giving the right answer.

 

Right now, he was having a difficult time answering one of her questions. He sat there, slacking spine, arms crossed on his waist, and his eyes dart around the room. It has been like this for a minute for two but Sansa wasn’t worried.

 

“Take your time, Jon. Remember the different types of bonds.” She cooed and her hands encased the stack of cards he made for this tutorial.

 

His eyes went to her hand that was clutching the card and snatched it. He ignored her shocked gasp as he stood up, avoiding her stretching arms by raising his arm above his head. “Can I get a hint?” He pleads.

 

Sansa huffs a breath and glowers at him. “I don’t think you can handle it.” She fumed in response, frowning at how easily he gave up on this question.

 

He sighs and returns the card without even glancing at it. “I didn’t mean to upset you, bookworm. I was just so bored. We’ve been here for two hours!” He reasons and gestures to the heavily draped windows and the near emptiness of the library.

 

“Well, you answered almost all of the cards… That’s quite impressive, I may add.” She compliments, her eyelashes fluttering against her round cheeks and a coy smile on her face.

 

“How about you and I go to a café? I bet you haven’t tried milkshakes.” He murmured in eagerness. The whisper fanned on her cheek and she nearly forgot to decipher his words.

 

“You two out! No flirting so loudly here!” The elderly hissed and she pointed her crooked wrinkled finger to the entrance in fury. She didn’t react when the faces of the teenagers burned in chagrin at this careless statement.

 

“Sorry.” They chorused as they arranged her things. Both of them not talking and they didn’t need to in helping one another. In under a minute her books are secured and they scurried out of the exit, heads bowed, and eyes avoiding each other.

 

It wasn’t long to find the café because it’s across the library. The café was designed with red and white theme; tiled floor of red diamonds, chairs of onyx colour, and tables scattered about. There was a juke box in the corner and a wide oval counter where all sorts of sundae glasses were displayed. They sat down on one of the empty tables and a waitress approached for their order.

 

Sansa scanned the menu and laughed at the ridiculousness of the names. “How about you choose for me?” She proposes and hands him the menu, in a challenge he’s always up to.

 

Jon accepts it and reviews the items for a moment or two before returning it to the waitress. “She’ll have a milkshake double chocolate delight with extra sprinkles.” He ordered.

 

“And for you, sir?”

 

He shook his head. “I’ll call when I’d want to order. Thank you.” He replied. He interlaced his fingers and laid them on the table, assessing her contemplation over the new environment she’s in. “So, what do you think of this humble abode?” He waves his hand in the air, talking about the café.

 

“Quaint.” Sansa replied. A song she doesn’t know floated in the air, it had an upbeat tune and the artist sang about summer and life. “Was the session worth it?”

 

“Anything is worth it when you’re involved, you bookworm.” Jon admitted with a quirk of his brow. He smiled at something over her shoulder and it turns out to be the waitress carrying the milkshake. “Thank you.” He says then places the tall glass in front of her, smiling and excited.

 

Sansa took a hold of the white straw and drew it between her lips. She then sucked and the rush of cold and sweet invaded her mouth. She closed her eyes and drank from the shake once more. When she refocused her gaze, Jon’s face is bright and downright ecstatic. “You have a knack in impressing me, you jock.” She quips with a small smile, as she sips from the drink once more.

 

“It’s one of my talents.” He beamed and swiped his finger on the hill of whipped cream sitting atop of the shake. He sucked it clean off his finger and releases it with a pop. “So how’s the milkshake?”

 

Sansa draws patterns in the drink. “Like Heaven.” She answers in glee. Only now does she note how their hands are right in front of each other. She can’t even find the spaces that separate their fingertips. What she would give to close the distance and have their hands intertwined; quite possibly anything at this moment.

 

“So you must know what Heaven is?” He quips with a laugh.

 

 _I know it with you._ She professed in her thoughts. Her eyes drifts down to her drink and continues to sip on the straw while Jon reclines on the back of his chair, observing her. There was a small wave of anxiety now because there have never been a chaperone in their midst in times of them being in proximity. They’re the destruction of etiquette when they’re together. Her gaze surveys the café and found teenagers she doesn’t know drink shakes and sodas as they eat fries with laughter booming from their tables.

Sansa lifted the straw off the glass and a part of the whipped cream came with it. She hovered it on Jon’s face; their faces glowed with mischief. “I can’t enjoy this delectable shake all by myself. It’d be a crime.” She muttered and neared the straw so close to his lush bottom lip a tiny white dot stained on it.

 

“I’ll bail you out.” Jon mumbled in return.

 

Her breathing deepened when his pink tongue snaked out of his mouth and licked the cream off the straw. He then submerges the straw in the milkshake, a grin on his face as he innocently drinks like nothing happened. She trailed her eyes from the straw to his eyes and she swears the shade nearing to cobalt is darker than the usual light sapphire colour.

 

The door of the café rang and the new customers were Tormund and Theon. Before they noticed them, Sansa swiftly gathered her things and went to the empty table next to theirs. She bent her head and gazed on the cream table top even though she felt Jon’s intense stare.

 

“I thought I knew those damn curls!” Theon exclaimed with a laugh. He strolled to where Jon sits and sat where she did not so long ago. The redhead slouched against the seat, lazily grinning and had his long legs stretched out.

 

“What are you doing here by yourself?” Tormund questioned, mystified that someone as popular as his best friend, and is not surrounded by his peers. He took the chair that’s placed near Sansa’s table and his head cocked in seeing her, alone with an open book.

 

There was a shift in his attitude from welcoming to aloof in a matter of seconds. Jon discreetly got a glimpse of her nervous state; hands drumming at the pages of the book and her foot taping to a furious beat. He shrugged. “Nothin’ really.” He muttered.

 

“Sansa, what are you doing here in this café?” The taller red haired boy asked, suspicion subtle in his question. He glanced at the chair he got from her table. “Sorry, are you expecting someone?”

 

She noticed all three boys eyed her with intrigue; especially Jon whose face is hardened. His body is turned towards her and his mouth is set in a firm line. It was difficult in distinguishing the emotions on his face because he skillfully hid them away.

 

“N-no. I was just taking a break from studying. I have to go, you boys have a nice afternoon.” She answered with a swift smile. Jon did take her here for a reprieve from studying so she isn’t really lying. She rose from her seat and tried her best to hide her hurry to escape the scene. As her eyes focused on the glass door, she could still feel Jon’s burning gaze on her back.

 

“She’s a little weird, ain’t she?” Theon muses with a chuckle.

 

She hadn’t heard any response as she exits the café.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Guilt; it’s the instant reaction to anything remotely wrong Sansa ever does. Panic overrides her system and at times, she’s left a quivering of limbs on her bed with her eyes clenched closed and her breaths are rapidly escaping her lungs. A mantra races in her mind when she does slightest of things. _I’m a stupid little girl. I’m so sorry please give me another chance and i’ll grow out of this stupidity._ It’s a rather innate reaction she has that has her hands painfully marking the tops of her knees, her tongue nearly swallowed down her throat but her face doesn’t show any grief that she feels.

 

So it isn’t a surprise that Sansa is rigid throughout the day since retreating in the café away from Jon and his brother and best friend. Her parents didn’t mind the eerier silence and rigid posture, answering their half-assed questions with mumbles and a smile that didn’t light up her eyes.

 

At dinnertime, her appetite isn’t known to her as she rolls the peas and carrots into the salad on her plate. The conversations from her lively siblings are only buzz in her ears. Robb talking about his after school practices for their football team, Arya, Bran and Rickon whining about the vegetables on their plates and ask their parents if there was ice cream left. To which Father would reply, “After you’ve eaten every bit of green on your plate, children.” And no arguments were made after that.

 

Sansa excused herself from the dinner table, using studies as an excuse but it was never seen that way. She makes her way to her room and the moment she closed the door, she begins to pace. Her hands start twisting and fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she attempts to sedate the anxiety crashing in her chest. She collapsed at the edge of her bed, her mind racing with erratic thoughts and the sticky tar sticks making it hard to breathe.

 

“I, I did the right thing. If they knew, the whole thing would’ve tumbled into a debacle. My parents would’ve shipped me away and I’ll be without him! And, and there would be false stories out of this.” She rambled aloud, her voice cracking and her fingers painfully twists the strands of hair curtained around her face.

 

She squints her eyes at the telephone, contemplating if she should call the Tyrell siblings and recount everything that had happened. A spark of fear tingled in her. She wasn’t sure how’d they react in hearing that she went off to teaching the very boy the girls are much hesitant about. She made a move towards it; readying herself for their sermons and possible screams at her words.

 

A knock on the window made her yelp but she covered her mouth and darts to the origin of the sound.

Expecting it to be Margaery and Jeyne, she unlatches the lock and pushes the window upwards. She steps back and her eyes widened at who snuck in her room; it’s none other than the quarterback.

 

“What-what are you doing here?” Sansa breathed, unable to process the sight before her.

 

Jon cards his hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. “I was coming home on my bike and the next thing I know, I’m climbing over the gates and fences to be here.” He answered.

 

Hanging out with Jon in and out of school is one thing but to have him in her room, with her dressed in her flannels and have no adults in the room is downright scandalous if anyone saw. She raced to where he entered and untied the drapes so their neighbours would not see a teenage boy in her room and report it to her parents or gossip about it over tea.

 

“About what happened, I-I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. It’s just your brother and best friend were there and I was not sure what would’ve happened. I swear I’ll pay for the milkshake and…” Sansa trailed off because tightness in her throat made itself known and restricted what she wanted to say more, to apologize, to shake this worry out of her. And she inhaled a shuddering breath.

 

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I understand.” He coos and approaches her. His hand lingers in the air for a moment, hesitance freezing his action in the air. He digs his hand into his pocket. “And you don’t have to pay. The moment I saw the café the other day, I knew I had to bring you there.”

 

Sansa’s arms wound around her waist, modesty drilled into her actions thanks to Mother. “Wait, so you didn’t have to study for Chemistry?” She pointed out in puzzlement. She felt another wave of shock in seeing the jock’s cheeks bloom with head as he drifted down to the floor.

 

He shifted his footing, trying to rattle some answer. “I, uh, well there isn’t anything wrong with studying in advance. And you’re right the reviewers were really understandable.” He affirmed.

 

It couldn’t be denied how her jaw slacked a little at his confession. He endured two hours of Chemistry just so he can take her to a café? “Why didn’t you tell me about the café instead of studying on a Sunday?” She pondered, utterly confused about this revelation.

 

Jon didn’t maintain eye contact when her question is uttered. The coy blush remained on his face and if anything, it got redder. “I wasn’t so sure you’d want to go to a café…” He trailed off, uncertain and not quite matching the usual confident boy everyone knows he is.

 

 _I’d go anywhere with you._ Sansa confessed. She couldn’t say this though. The situation they’re in felt delicate, standing on thin ice with only calculated steps being their solution to landing on stable ground. “Now we’ll never know.” She dismissed. “Are you still mad at me?” She divulged, making certain there isn’t lingering anger in him.

 

“I can never be mad at you, Sans.” Jon swore that was accompanied with a genuine smile.

 

“You know, whenever Marg or Jeyne and I fight, we hug it out. Friends hug for closure.” Sansa hinted, failing in hiding her simper when Jon’s face brightened. She held her arms out and motioned for him to come closer.

 

The top of her head grazed his chin as they finally eliminated the distance between them. His arms circled on her shoulders, her shoulders pressed on his front, and her arms went around his waist, sliding past the jacket he has on.

 

She pressed her cheek against his chest, close to the heart that’s furiously beating. A tiny curl is her response in smelling whatever cologne he has on, or maybe it’s entirely him and that woodsy scent she’s starting to adore. A decade could’ve passed but it wouldn’t occur to the teenagers as Jon dropped his chin on her head, rubbing it a little and his large hand drifted down to her back and drew loose patterns there. Time dragged its feet when they’re in each other’s arms and neither minded.

 

“We good?” Jon murmured on the crown of her head and she could tell he was smiling.

 

Sansa merely nodded, her mind is like a static radio because she’s basking in this embrace, the warmth and the comforting sound of his heart beats. Her hands roamed his back and the muscles twitched at her touch. She didn’t want to admit that his cosy caresses sent shivers down her spine as well. She furrowed her eyebrows when Jon retracted in his step, separating her from warmth she never knew she needed so he can look into her eyes.

 

“Why don’t you want TTormund and Theon to see us?” Jon questioned, his voice dropped in seriousness but his hands trail along the back of her arms and hands.

 

“They’ll concoct some false stories and it will definitely hurt your chances with your crush.” Sansa answered. What else can her answer be? She didn’t want to complicate their relationship in any degree.

Jon angled his head as bafflement washed over his face. He furrowed his brow and he unconsciously pulled her an inch closer. “Crush? Who’s my crush?” He inquired out of genuine perplexity.

 

“Ygritte.. Isn’t she your crush?” She reminded him with doubt now. Maybe they’re unofficial but she was certain there was something going on between them.  She felt absurd uttering her assumption without any consideration for facts or actually seeing them together; which now that she thinks of it is next to none.

 

“She isn’t my crush, Sans.” He bursts but he pauses when Sansa slightly flinches in his arms. One of his hands travelled to her cheek, his hand running through the loose tresses on her face. “She’s really not…” He lowly said, his breath fanning her cheek and they both dimly realize how close his mouth is on her skin.

 

Sansa loosens her arms on his waist and lets them dangle on her sides. She studied his face; fondness softens his grey eyes and his mouth has a subtle smile on it. “Then I didn’t have any reason to rush out? I’m terribly sorry I ruined it.” She breathed. She couldn’t take her eyes off the look he wears; an emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint is written so freely on his face.

 

His eyes roamed around the room with an amused smile. “So this is your room. It’s exactly what I thought it’d be.”

 

“You imagine what my room looks like?” She echoed with an arched brow. She sits at her bed, allowing him to scan through the imposing bookshelves filled with meticulously organized books.

It felt intimate and not at all invasion of privacy. He’s scouring her personal things like her school work on her study desk but when he stood in front of her, his attention over her shoulder she knew what he was staring at.  The childhood stuff toys she hasn’t had the heart to throw away.

 

He went to one side of her bed, his mouth grinning, as he picked up one of the plum coloured teddy bears along with the other teddy bears in various sizes. “What’s her name? I figured girls would give them names for the tea parties you always have with them.” He told her with a short laugh.

 

Sansa stood next to him, observing how utterly adorable the image before her is. She marvels at how fascinating he is. Because Jon is nowhere near what she and her thoughts originally assumed he is in being a snob jock and she’s delighted in being wrong about this. “Gumdrop; Arya says it’s a horrid name but I once saw an advertisement for it. And her colour matches the candy exactly.” She explained, her fingers dancing in the stitched fur.

 

“Maybe that’s the next candy I’ll place in your locker?” Jon suggested and waggled his eyebrows in humour.

 

“How do you sneak candies in my locker? Do you pick on the lock?” She inquired with genuine curiosity. It hadn’t bothered her at all since what Jon drops off are merely sweets and sweeter notes. If anyone else did this, she’d have them reported or suspended.

 

Jon sat down on her bed, gathering more of her stuffed animals, his wide eyed look reflecting the inquisitiveness he has for the stuff toys. “I’m afraid that’s a secret I’ll keep to my grave.” He snorted.

 

Sansa glanced at the clock on her nightstand; it displayed the time of thirty minutes past ten. Funny, in any other time, she’d be underneath her blankets, trying to sleep for school. Yet tonight, drowsiness is unknown to her because her heart is racing in joy and a unique sort of buzz is ebbing along her veins.

 

“Maybe we can go to a candy shop. I’m sure there’s one near our school.” He suggests. He then reclines and his lays down on his back, hands on his stomach. “We’ll eat taffy, sour worms, and other candies that’ll rot our teeth.”

 

She mimics his position so their elbows are brushing, they’re gazing at the vacant ceiling, and their feet sway. “I can’t right now. The debate team is practicing to the bone for the regionals up against Baratheons. They’re a vicious group.” She stressed on how important this match is for her and for the debate congress. If they win this then they’ll get to go to nationals and hopefully win that as well. Mr. Tyrion has been relentless in their drills and researches that she can’t even find time to be away from her academe and extra-curricular.

 

“When and where will it be held?” He asks and though he plays it off as nonchalance, he takes glimpses of her, waiting for her answer.

 

“Next Saturday at ten in the morning oh and it’s a few towns over at Storm’s End. Almost two hours from here. Why are you asking?” Sansa turned her head so her cheek meets the cool blanket.

 

Jon does the same, their noses almost touching and their eyes lingered for a moment too long before he answered, almost distractedly. “I might attend.” He mutters, his arm propped on his hip and his fingers toy with hers, sprawled on her midriff. The two won’t admit it even to themselves but one more inch, an effort on either side, and they could kiss or simply be in each other’s’ arms.

 

“Are you saying that because so? Trying to be the ever polite gentleman that you are?” Sansa guessed his reasons because there aren’t much she can derive from to arrive at a conclusion.

 

“I said I’d go because I’d like to see you verbally kickass.” Jon answered. He lifted his hand and trailed his knuckles down her cheek and stopped at the curve of her neck, his touch burning a path on the patch of skin he touched.

 

 _You should only welcome a touch from your husband; no one else._ Mother would preach to her in utmost seriousness. It made sense to Sansa. A touch can lead to so much like a miniscule nudge at the edge of a cliff and you’d fall, never being able to go back to the things they were. But as his fingers hover over her pulse point, their faces had subtle veneration but it felt much profound than what they show, all of Mothers’ golden laws are lost to her like how she’s lost in his eyes.

 

Perhaps in a sense, these shy touches were what Mother warned because they’re both falling off something prominently deeper. And they can’t feel the guilt or regret because the fall is much too sweet to ignore.

 


End file.
